


Not exactly Mills & Boon

by Squishmitten



Series: Blame it on the booze [1]
Category: Holby City
Genre: BAW - Berena Appreciation Week 2018, Berena Appreciation Week, Day Six, F/F, What might have happened after the toast in Brave New World, prompt - alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishmitten/pseuds/Squishmitten
Summary: Yes, Serena had agreed to keeping it confined to theatre...That doesn’t mean they can’t go over to Albie’s for a drink as friends and colleagues.





	Not exactly Mills & Boon

“Here’s to keeping it confined to theatre.”

Serena sat there at her desk, staring across the lamp lit office at Bernie Wolfe. Bernie’s messy blonde hair glowed in the mellow lighting and Serena’s hand twitched with the urge to run her fingers through it. Not exactly Mills & Boon. That’s what she had said in response to Bernie dismissing the idea of anything happening between them. Her thoughts at that moment were a far cry from anything she imagined had ever been published in those sappy romance novels. The kiss on the theatre floor had switched a light on in what had previously been an unlit area of Serena’s sexuality, and she really wasn’t sure she was ready to have it extinguished again. 

Draining the last of the Shiraz from her glass, Serena contemplated the rest of the bottle. It was a screw cap, so would keep easily enough. She looked over and saw that Bernie had also almost finished hers.

“Albie’s then? I did promise I’d buy you a drink, after all.”

Bernie looked up, startled. She gestured to her almost empty glass.

“I thought…” she trailed off.

“I think we can do better than a glass from my emergency bottle of cheap Shiraz, don’t you? Besides, neither of us is working tomorrow and Jason is away, off at that convention thing with Alan. Meaning I have an increasingly rare evening to myself. Come on Bernie, save yourself from another evening in front of the television with a microwaved ready meal balanced on your knee.”

Bernie wondered about the wisdom of mixing alcohol with Serena Campbell. She had promised herself though, that she wouldn’t let the kiss and its fallout affect either her working relationship or her friendship with Serena.

“You do make quite a convincing case. Okay, let’s go.”

They powered down their PCs, gathered coats and bags and walked out on to the ward, shoulder to shoulder. Calling out their goodbyes to the evening staff, they stepped into the lift. Serena blushed and cringed a little at the thought of that morning’s awkward conversation. Thankfully, this journey was taken in a far more comfortable silence.

 

Over the road from the hospital, in Wyvern Wing’s home away from home, Serena bought a bottle of her customary Shiraz and carried it, and a pair of glasses over to the cosy little nook Bernie had settled into. Surprisingly, none of the usual crowd seemed to be around. Well, Fletch was still in hospital of course, and Raf was no doubt on substitute daddy duty, but it was odd not to see anyone else. 

Serena took a very healthy swig from her glass. Oh yes, this was far, far nicer than the bottle she had dug out from her desk drawer. She made a mental note not to buy that particular Shiraz again. That would teach her to be seduced by a pretty label and a special offer.

“Is everyone on one of those sponsored sober months, or something?” Serena asked, sipping a little more slowly. “The place is practically empty tonight.”

“Not as far I’m aware. Certainly no one has tried to tap me up for any money so far.”

Bernie savoured her own glass of wine. It was funny, she’d never been too bothered about red wine in the past. Since her friendship with Serena had blossomed, however, she had fast developed a real taste for a good, full bodied Shiraz. Lush and full bodied, curvaceous. No, wait. Easy Wolfe, she warned herself, platonic friendship, remember?

  
  
  


Reaching for the bottle to top up their glasses, Bernie was confused to see it was empty. 

“How did that happen? I’ll go and get another. Hopefully this one won’t evaporate!” Bernie stood and was surprised when her head swam slightly.

“Hang on, drinks were meant to be on me tonight.” Serena objected.

“You got the last one. I’ll get this and then you can go next.” Bernie wandered off towards the bar.

Serena found herself unable to take her eyes off the figure of her co-lead, as she wove her way around tables and chairs in search of more wine.

“And what a fine figure it is too!” She muttered to herself. 

 

What neither Serena nor Bernie had noticed, whilst drinking their way through half a bottle back in the office and a full bottle in Albie’s was this: in spite of Bernie’s ability to drink men almost twice her size under the table, and Serena’s legendary capacity for Shiraz consumption, both of them were getting rather rapidly drunk.

Both had suffered an almost sleepless weekend. The shock and stress of Fletch being stabbed and having to fight so hard together to save him. Combined with what had happened afterwards, seated on the cold, hard floor of the AAU operating theatre. It really hadn’t made for a good night’s sleep for either of them. Add to that, the fact that neither of them had eaten properly all day. They had both been too on edge with Fletch’s fluctuating health, the complex pseudoaneurysm repair, plus of course, the ever present and massive sapphic elephant in the room.

 

Bernie returned from the bar empty handed and with a shocked look on her face.

“I cannot believe it. They have run out of Shiraz. Not a drop left in the place. Unbelievable. I wasn’t sure what your second choice would be.”

“For future reference, it’s a Malbec, but never mind second choices, I have plenty of Shiraz at home and comfier seating too. Come on, let’s go and find a cab.” Serena drained the last drop from her glass and stood up.

Bernie hesitated for a moment.

“Come on, Bernie. I’m thirsty!”

Bernie shrugged, grabbed her coat and bag and followed Serena towards the door.

“They’d better replenish the Shiraz stocks soon, Serena, or their takings are going to show a significant dip.” Bernie called out.

“Oi. A  _ significant _ dip? Cheek. Come on, let’s try the taxi rank.”

 

***

 

Serena began to wake up. Slowly and reluctantly. Before she even opened her eyes, she knew this was going to be a killer of a hangover. Pounding head, nausea and a mouth that tasted like a wine soaked ashtray. Had she been  _ smoking? _ She must have been very drunk indeed. She lay still, hoping she would drop off again and sleep through the worst of the symptoms. Unfortunately, as well as a raging thirst, she also really needed to take care of the urgent need for a wee. 

Moving as carefully and slowly as possible, Serena manoeuvred out of bed and shuffled blearily to the en-suite. After relieving herself and washing her hands, she sipped carefully on a glass of water, waiting to see if the nausea would take over. When her stomach didn’t seem to object, she drank the rest of the glass, before refilling it. She popped two ibruprofen from the pack in the cabinet and washed them down. After refilling the glass a third time, Serena headed back to bed.

Serena peered at the clock by her bedside. 6.47am. She had to think hard about what day it was, her schedule and Jason’s schedule. Ah yes, she was day off and Jason was with Alan, meaning she could sleep as long as she wanted. Thank god. She took a deep breath, settled back into her pillows and closed her eyes.

 

Her eyes almost immediately flew back open as she felt the mattress shift next to her, and heard a snuffling sound. Oh shit! Not only had she apparently been drunk enough to smoke, she also had someone in her bed. She lay very still and tried to take stock. She was naked, but that meant very little, as she preferred to sleep nude unless it was particularly cold. She certainly didn’t  _ feel _ as if she’d had sex, so that was something. What the hell had she got up to last night?

Hang on. Wine in the office. More wine in Albie’s. A taxi ride, then… well she couldn’t remember how much more wine had been consumed when they arrived back at the house. The memories were very hazy. But it did mean that unless something very untoward had happened, the person laying in bed next to her was Ms Berenice Wolfe.

Serena gingerly lifted the duvet a little and peered underneath. Okay. She now knew what her colleague looked like under the scrubs and the skinny jeans. So, they were both naked and in bed together. Again, Serena told herself, that didn’t necessarily mean too much. It could well be that Bernie also habitually slept naked and had automatically stripped off when she put herself to bed.

What to do next? Her hangover wanted her to stay exactly where she was and go back to sleep. Self preservation told her to slip out of bed as quietly as possible, head downstairs and hope that a few mugs of strong coffee might restore some memory of the night before.

 

Serena slid out of bed, aware of every single rustling sound the bedding made and the slight boinging of bedsprings as she eased herself off the mattress. She carefully opened drawers to retrieve clothes and looked longingly at the en-suite. If she had to get out of bed with a raging hangover, ideally she would stand under a scalding hot shower for at least ten minutes. Not really an option with a naked, sleeping Bernie in her bed. Serena quickly pulled on her clothes, eyes glued to the tousled blonde hair just visible above the duvet. She froze as Bernie turned over in her sleep and the duvet was pulled down a little. 

Seeing Bernie’s face in repose for the first time, completely relaxed in sleep, took Serena’s breath away. She was so lovely. Bernie was  _ always _ attractive, but there was just something about the vulnerability of her asleep. The sweep of her eyelashes against her cheek, the slight smile on her lips, and the total lack of worry that seemed to be permanently etched on her friend’s face lately. The birds nest tangle of blonde hair spread across her pillow that Serena longed to run her fingers through.

Serena shook herself out of her contemplation. The last thing she needed was to have Bernie wake to find Serena standing over her, staring whilst she’d slept. She quietly opened the bedroom door and crept out. Coffee was needed, and lots of it.

 

She stuck her head around the living room door and everything looked normal. The kitchen was a little messier than usual, with a line of empties on the side, awaiting their trip to the recycling bin. Four empty wine bottles. It could have been worse, but definitely accounted for the hangover. Serena put the kettle on and spooned her strongest ground coffee blend into her cafetière. She chucked in an extra scoop for good measure. She had a feeling she would need all the caffeine she could get. Once the coffee was brewed, she sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around her mug.

Bernie Wolfe naked in her bed. Serena snorted in amusement. Their toast of the previous evening to keeping things confined to theatre hadn’t exactly lasted very long. Getting pissed and bedding her colleague was about as far from professional as she had been in her entire career. What was she meant to do now? She genuinely wasn’t sure what she hoped for. That Bernie remembered what had or hadn’t happened in that bed last night? That she was as clueless as Serena and they could just sweep the whole thing under the rug, alongside the kiss?

A small, cowardly part of Serena wanted to grab her handbag and leave the house. Stay out all day and then act like absolutely nothing had happened when she next saw Bernie at the hospital. The larger, more rational part of her (not to mention the hungover part of her) knew she was going nowhere. They would need to talk about this. Better it happened here in private, rather than at work.

 

***

 

Bernie stirred. Mmmm, she must finally be getting used to the new bed she had bought. She wriggled around. She usually woke up feeling like she had been sleeping on concrete, but today she felt marvellous. She stretched and opened her eyes. 

“Oh shit!”

This wasn’t her bland little bedroom, in her bland little flat. She was in a king size bed, with soft and luxurious bedding and an amazingly comfortable mattress. She closed her eyes again and tried to cast her mind back to the night before. They flew open again as she realised exactly where she was. She was in Serena Campbell’s bed. The woman she had kissed just a couple of days before. The woman who she had reassured just yesterday that she would keep their relationship professional. The woman who she had fallen for, hook, line and sinker.

“Oh god, what did I do?”

Bernie tried to cast her mind back to the previous night. A glass of wine in the office, followed by a bottle in Albie’s, before coming back here. She vaguely recalled them ordering a takeaway, Serena’s glee at being able to have Thai, something that wasn’t on Jason’s list of approved foods. What she  _ didn’t _ remember was coming upstairs, stripping naked and climbing into Serena’s bed.

Bernie got out of bed and cast her eye around the room. There were her clothes, tossed on the chair in the corner. So her bra wasn't hanging off a lampshade somewhere, that was something at least. She hurriedly dressed then made use of the en-suite.

 

She stood at the top of the stairs and hesitated.

“Come on Wolfe, time to face the music,” she muttered to herself.

As she went along the hall to the kitchen, she could smell fresh coffee and her mouth watered. Pushing open the kitchen door, she saw her friend and colleague sitting at the table, mug in hand.

“Erm, good morning Serena.”


End file.
